


Louisiana

by luluren



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluren/pseuds/luluren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It never changes, Babe decides. Gene’s always going to ask if Babe’s ok, and after coming back to a world that’s just a little bit different, it’s a relief to know that Gene’s the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why don’t you come to Louisiana?”

The words crackle through the line and Babe stops pacing back and forth in front of the small table where the phone sits. “What?”

“Come down here. You’re takin’ a few weeks off, yeah?”

It’s honestly something he’d never thought of doing. Yeah, he is taking some time off, and yeah, he’s been thinking about going somewhere, but not once did the thought of visiting Gene enter his thoughts. It’s a good idea, he decides.

“Really? Can you put up with me for a couple of weeks?”

A soft chuckle is in his ear and Babe smiles. “Maybe. We’ll see, huh?”

Babe takes a sip of the beer he’s holding. “You sure? I mean, I dunno-”

“I wouldn't've offered if I didn't mean it, Heffron.”

Babe chews on his lower lip, stares at the wall thinking of an excuse as to why he shouldn't go. He comes up empty. “I can leave Friday – that ok?” he asks, a grin on his face and a flutter in his stomach because this shit is actually gonna happen.

“Good. Let me know what time your train’ll get here.”

“Ain’t gonna make me walk from the station?” Babe asks. 

“I should,” Gene says with that familiar laugh. “You’d probably get lost though.”

Babe scoffs. “I’m sure I could find your place. They might’ve taught me how to read a map in the Army. But,” he continues, “I need your address.”

“Check the return address on every letter I’ve sent,” Gene remarks dryly. “I’m starting to doubt how smart I sorta thought you were. I’ll see you Saturday, Babe.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

He leaves tomorrow but for now Babe's propped himself on a chair at the bar, Bill sitting beside him and swaying slightly because they've both had a little too much to drink.

“So you're goin' to Louisiana, huh?”

“Yep.” Babe takes a pull from his beer, licks the foam off his upper lip. “Leavin' after work tomorrow.”

“Tell Doc I said hey, will ya?” Bill asks, grinning.

“You wanna come?” Babe suggests. “Tell him yourself.”

“Nah,” Bill says with a grin, “I ain't goin' all the way to Louisiana. These Philly bones can't take that heat.”

“After last winter, I’d think you’d be ready for some heat.”

He doesn’t notice the way Bill’s face turns contemplative, eyes squinting as he stares. “Sure you’re comin’ back?”

“What?” The question throws Babe and he turns in his seat to face Bill. “Come back from where?”

“Louisiana, ya dumbass.”

“What?” he repeats, the words so foreign they’re hard to process. “Of course I am, Bill! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno, Heffron. Somethin’ just tells me you ain’t.”

Babe opens his mouth to respond but Bill’s brothers walk in and Babe’s surrounded by Guarnere’s – loud voices and hard pats on the back – and Louisiana is pushed to the background for now.

Later, after he’s drunk enough beer to feel like he’s floating, and the lock to his apartment door gives him trouble just like every other night, and he’s toeing his shoes off and giggling quietly because that’s what a drunk man does, Bill’s words come back to him and he sobers up just a little.

He turns thoughtful while he divests himself of his jacket and sits on the sofa, his fingers tapping against his knee. Thinks about what the last few months of the war was like, how Gene became more than just a medic and instead became a friend and yeah, if he’s being honest with himself – he misses the man. He misses all the guys, but Gene’s just a little bit different.

The thought of calling Gene pops into his head and before there’s time to think about it, Babe picks up the phone and dials what is now a pretty familiar number. 

“’ello?”

“Hey,” Babe says, not bothering to give his name. 

“You ok?” Gene’s voice is groggy, and he clears his throat softly.

“’m ok. I wake you?”

“Nah. Sittin’ on the porch.” A laugh drifts through the phone. “I might be drunk.”

“You and me both, Doc,” Babe replies, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “Is it hot there?”

“It’s Louisiana,” Gene says wryly.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Can you turn the heat down when I get there Saturday?” 

Gene laughs again, and Babe smiles. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

There’s a few seconds of comfortable silence, and Babe leans his head back against the wall, afraid to close his eyes because every time he does the room starts to spin. 

“Were you out with Bill?” Gene asks.

“Yeah. Supposed to tell you hi from him when I get there,” Babe answers sleepily, then he laughs. “Guess I should’ve waited to tell you that.”

“Guess so.” There’s a flick of a lighter then a soft exhale, and Gene sighs. “Train still leavin’ at three?”

“Yeah.” Babe’s tired and drunk and thinking about leaving Philly and never coming back. It’s an insane thought.

“You sure you’re ok, Babe?” Gene asks after several quiet moments pass where all they do is listen to each other breathe. His quiet words shake Babe from the nothingness he was contemplating and he answers with a yes. 

“I wonder sometimes if you’re ever gonna stop askin’ if I’m ok,” Babe replies softly. 

“Doubt it.” A chair moves across a wooden floor and Gene exhales quietly. “Go to bed, Babe. I’ll see you Saturday.”

It never changes, Babe decides. Gene’s always going to tell him to go to bed, and he’s always going to ask if Babe’s ok, and after coming back to a world that’s just a little bit different after having been to war, it’s a relief to know that Gene’s always going to be the same. 

“Night Gene.”


	2. Chapter 2

The train stops Saturday evening at a town so small Babe’s not sure if it really qualifies as one. 

Only a few people are getting off when Babe slowly grabs his bag from beneath his seat, feeling more than a little nervous. Though why he’s nervous about seeing Gene is beyond him because it’s Gene for chrissakes. The guy who stuck with him from Bastogne on out, the one who helped him get through terrible nights in a foxhole he tries hard not to think about – the guy who looked out for him just a little more than anyone else.

Babe peers out the window as he makes his way down the aisle, wondering just what the hell Gene’s Louisiana looks like, and the descriptions Gene used to mention off-handedly while shivering in a foxhole seems pretty accurate. There’s a lot of green – the color bursting everywhere – and Babe swears the air shimmers through the window because of the humidity.

The first blast of hot, heavy air hits him in the face as he nears the door and he cringes – Gene’s fucking nuts for living down here. 

Beads of sweat dot his hairline as he descends the steps into blinding sun, stumbling a bit as he steps down, feeling unhinged and a little disoriented. But a hand’s gripping his elbow and he focuses on the familiar face in front of him with those dark eyes, that black, black hair and pale skin.

“Christ, Doc,” he murmurs as Gene envelopes him into a bone crushing hug, clapping Babe’s back a few times. Babe’s not sure if he’s startled by the hug or maybe just the fact that he’s actually here and Gene’s right here with him, but whatever it is, it kind of takes his breath away and he holds on to Gene tightly for a moment.

Gene pulls back, the same grin on his face that Babe’s seen a thousand and one times, and Babe can’t stop smiling either because Gene’s standing a foot away after more than a year since he last saw him and goddamn – Babe didn’t realize how much he’d actually missed the man.

“Good to see you, Edward,” Gene says, squeezing Babe’s forearms before letting go.

“Edward? C’mon,” Babe replies, still smiling like an idiot. “Thought you got over that.”

“Maybe someday,” Gene says, grinning a little wider before stooping down to grab Babe’s suitcase. “C’mon. Let’s get outta this sun.”

“You said it was hot but Jesus. You never said much about the humidity,” Babe complains as he follows Gene down the steps and into a dirt parking lot where a beat-up old truck sits.

“Hot and humid are kinda the same thing down here,” Gene says with a laugh. He drops Babe’s bag in the back of the truck and gestures for Babe to get in the front. “Think you can handle it?”

Babe sits back against the worn leather seat, trying to relax. “Gimme a week, Doc. And just hope I don’t go crazy.”

“Heat gonna drive you mad?”

“It just might.”

After a few attempted tries, Gene gets the truck started but before he backs out onto the road he looks at Babe with serious eyes.

“What?” Babe asks, the nervousness from a moment before coming back with a bang.

“I’m real glad you’re here, Babe. Real glad,” Gene says earnestly.

A peculiar sort of warmth spreads out from Babe’s chest and he’s not quite sure what to do or say because Gene’s looking at him with an open, intense expression and the awkwardness he’d felt a second ago fades away. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something like “I missed you, too” but instead he smiles, and says “Me too, Gene.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out Gene really does live in the bayou, deep between large, old trees and the river just a hundred yards away. It’s a small house, well-kept with a wide front porch and a swing. 

“Ain’t much,” Gene says, pulling into the dirt driveway just to the side of the porch. They sit in the truck, and Babe’s soaking it all in and trying to ignore surreal all this is. 

“I like it. It fits you.” 

Gene grins over at Babe. “Fits me?”

“Yeah. Don’t ask me to explain it, Doc, it just does.” He makes Gene laugh, something that so rarely happened over in Europe, and now they’re getting out of the truck and Gene’s got Babe’s suitcase in hand. Babe follows him up the porch steps and into the house, looking around because he’s more curious than he’d ever admit about the house Gene lives in.

The door opens into a sitting room, a sofa in the middle with a coffee table in front, and a radio against the far wall. There’s a door on the right that goes into a small kitchen, and another door on the left showing a set of steep stairs which Babe can only assume goes up to the bedrooms.

It’s humble, he decides. Humble and straight-forward, just like Doc.

“It’s nice,” Babe says as Gene sits his suitcase down next to the sofa.

“It’s all yours while you’re here.”

“Free reign?”

“Just don’t burn it down,” Gene replies with a grin. “C’mon, let’s get you a beer.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

For having done nothing but sit on a train for twenty-four hours, Babe can barely keep his eyes open once the sun’s gone down and his belly’s full of spicy Cajun food Gene whipped up. His mouth’s still kind of on fire, but the beer certainly helps.

“You look tired,” Gene comments as they swing gently back and forth on the porch swing, the air hot and surrounding them like a blanket.

“Ya think?” Babe teases, nudging Gene’s shoulder with his own. “But nah, I am tired. I think it’s the heat.”

“Or the food. Or the beer. Or the ride,” Gene continues, stubbing his cigarette out on the porch railing. “All three probably. C’mon. Let’s get you settled in your room.”

Babe follows Gene back inside the house and up the stairs to the bedroom across the hall from Gene’s. “You ain’t goin’ to bed?” he asks as he sits down, alarmed to hear his knees cracking because Jesus H. Christ he’s only twenty five years old. This shit shouldn’t be happening yet.

“In a bit. Might have another beer.” Gene stands in the doorway looking at Babe with an expression that’s hard to read – there’s a hint of fondness maybe, with something else Babe doesn’t have words for. He’s not sure what to do with that look, can’t interpret it so instead Babe says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Gene?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for invitin’ me.”

Babe would swear Gene’s eyes twinkle at him as he grins, murmuring something in French that Babe doesn’t understand before he turns and closes the door, leaving Babe alone.

He doesn’t bother to put his pajamas on, just strips down to his underwear and lays down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the fuck he’s ever going to fall asleep in this heat.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It definitely feels like a dream, has that ethereal quality to it that isn’t found in real life. And it’s cold with snowy on the ground and a trail of blood that leads off into the forest. Babe doesn’t want to follow it, he _really doesn’t,_ but his feet are carrying him deeper into the trees, following the trail and fuck, he doesn’t want to see what’s at the end because it’s gonna be bad, it’s always bad. But he can’t stop and a whine fills the air around him – it grows louder and louder and someone’s calling his name, the tone urgent but the whining’s getting louder and –

“Babe! Wake up!”

Babe opens his eyes, realizes at the same moment that he’s making the whining noise and it’s not even really a whine – it’s more like a sob, which in all honesty scares him more than the dream.

Fuck the goddamn nightmares.

Gene’s sitting at the edge of Babe’s bed, his warm hands sliding across Babe’s forehead, his shoulders – it’s like he’s checking for a wound or something and Babe’s gut twists uncomfortably.

“I’m fine, Gene, I’m fine,” he says breathlessly, sitting up and pushing Gene’s hands away. It reminds him too much of the war, of Bastogne, and after the nightmare he’s just had, he doesn’t want to be reminded of it again.

Gene’s hands drop to his lap but they don’t stop fidgeting. “Nightmare?” he whispers, and when Babe nods, Gene nods too. “I get ‘em some nights.”

“Fucking sucks,” Babe murmurs. He’s hot and sweaty, heart beating fast.

“Wanna talk about it?” Gene asks, dark eyes glittering in the light spilling through the window from the moon.

Babe shudders, and now he can’t stop trembling because the trail of blood is at the forefront of his mind and he knows that if Gene hadn’t woken him up, he’d of found something awful, something fucking terrible and fuck – 

Gene crawls up onto the bed, and wraps an arm around Babe’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Shh,” he murmurs, resting his head against Babe’s, “it’s ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

The words are familiar because Babe’s heard Gene murmur them to so many men – sometimes they were true and other times it was meant for comfort, to calm the poor guy while the life bled out. The voice is comforting though, something about the tone, or maybe it’s the smooth cadence with which Gene speaks. 

Whatever it is, Babe finds the trembles subsiding and he leans in closer to Gene, liking the human contact.

He’s never had someone hold him after a nightmare. 

And of course it would be Gene, he thinks as he drifts off.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the sun shining in his face that wakes him up the next morning. He’s disoriented for a second, wondering where the hell he is, but then last night starts to come back in little pieces – snow and blood and Gene’s hands on his face and the arm around his back when he slept.

He’s in Louisiana.

And judging by the smell coming up the stairs, Gene’s making breakfast.

Babe only waits half a second before getting out of bed and pulling on a pair of trousers and a button down shirt. He wants to shower, but the smell of pancakes and bacon is proving to be too much, so he walks barefoot down to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway and watches Gene as he goes back and forth from the kitchen table to the stove, flipping pancakes and turning bacon.

Gene’s wearing a pair of faded trousers with a shirt so old and thin Babe’s pretty sure he can see the outline of his shoulder blades through the fabric. Gene’s got no idea Babe’s standing in the doorway, so Babe takes a long moment to just look at him.

It might be the clothes but there’s something different. During the war, Gene always seemed to be hunched in on himself, especially in Bastogne, and it took fucking forever for Babe to get Gene to open up. But even once he did, Babe could tell he held back.

Now it feels as though he’s watching the real Gene at work, this loose-limbed, grinning man that didn’t exist in Europe.

Babe must’ve made a sound or something because Gene turns, spatula in hand, and the smile that stretches across his face makes Babe laugh because it’s so open.

“Mornin’,” Babe says, stepping into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Gene replies. He smiles softly and nods towards the cabinet next to the sink. “Coffee cups are in there.”

It’s crazy how well Gene knows him. 

Babe pours himself a cup of coffee and leans back against the counter, feeling just a tiny bit awkward about last night and hoping Gene won’t bring it up. Having nightmares is something a kid does, and it makes him feel weak and vulnerable. 

He’ll never forget the first one he had once he got back, not so much because of the dream but how his ma reacted – like she was seeing a side of him she’d never seen before, and that mothering instinct wasn’t there, because _she didn’t understand_.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to answer his father’s questions about what it was like to see this or that or describe how they beat the Germans at Bastogne because you don’t just beat them – you fight for it, inch by blasted inch, your entire life consumed by it so that by the time you realize you’ve gained that ground back, you’re numb and exhausted. 

“Hey.”

Fingers dig into his arm, snapping Babe out of his thoughts, and he moves his gaze to Gene who’s staring at him with that careful look that makes Babe squirm.

“Yeah?”

“Breakfast is ready,” Gene says, nodding towards the table. 

“OK.”

“OK?” Gene repeats, eyebrows raised.

A smile stretches across Babe’s lip as he answers in the affirmative. “’m fine, Gene.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

After breakfast Gene draws Babe outside with the promise of beer and lessons on how to correctly fish in the bayou. Babe’s not too impressed with the lesson part but beer? Yes, please.

“I’m not really great with boats,” Babe says uneasily while watching Gene untie the rope holding said boat to the dock. He’s kind of nervous – last time he was on a boat this small it capsized and left him standing in freezing cold water, and while the water is warmer here, he’d rather not be in it. 

“I promise this one’s sturdier than those inflatable things,” Gene says, holding his hand out, oblivious to the look Babe’s giving him. When Babe doesn’t move Gene drops his hand, staring at him with raised eyebrows. “What?”

Babe eyes him carefully, though his words are teasing. “You sure you ain’t got any of that Cajun magic in you? I swear, half the time I think you’re reading my mind.”

“When else have you been on a boat, Babe?” Gene asks, throwing him an easy smile. “Or do you have a river in your backyard too?” 

“Smartass,” Babe murmurs as he finally takes Gene’s hand and steps down into the boat, tightening his hold as it rocks beneath his feet. 

Gene rows them out towards the middle of the river, muscles working underneath his shirt. The sun beats down on top of their heads while Babe contemplates Gene’s earlier response, and it really is as though Gene can read his thoughts. Or perhaps Babe wears his emotions on his sleeve, as much as he’d like to think he’s got a pretty good poker face. 

Being with Eugene is like a calming draught, something he could easily find himself becoming addicted to. It hits him again how much Babe's missed him. 

“You’re a lot more thoughtful nowadays,” Gene remarks as he pulls back on the oars, watching Babe watch the landscape slide slowly by. 

Babe turns his gaze to the other man, cocking his head. “There’s a lot to think about,” he says after a moment.

Gene stops rowing, letting the boat slowly drift with the current and leans down to grab one of the fishing poles. “You’re on vacation. Stop thinkin’.”

“Ha! Wish it were that easy,” Babe replies, grabbing the pole and wondering if he’s supposed to just stick the line in the water. He doesn’t realize that Gene’s silently laughing at him as he turns the pole this way and that, and still doesn’t realize it till he hears the man wheezing softly into his hand. “Aw, screw you, Doc,” he says, face heating up because how the fuck is he supposed to know how to fish? You aren’t just born with fishing skills.

“Sorry.” Gene continues laughing though so Babe leans over the side of the boat and splashes water in his direction. “Hey! What the hell, Babe?”

Now they’re both laughing like idiots, water splashing everywhere, and Babe hasn’t felt so lighthearted in a long, damn time.

It feels amazing.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun dips down below the trees as Babe lounges on the steps of the porch, a cold beer at his side and a cigarette between his fingers. His face is flushed from the day spent out on the river, and every time he smiles it hurts but he wouldn’t take this day back for anything. He’s relaxed, and happy and it’s a remarkable thing. 

Gene’s been on the phone for a few minutes, and when Babe hears footsteps on the porch behind him he turns to look over his shoulder. “Everything ok?” 

“It was my mother. She wants us to come over for dinner.” Gene moves closer and leans against the railing next to Babe. “We don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“Nah, that’s fine. Might need another beer or two before we go.” 

“No reason to be nervous,” Gene murmurs, lighting a cigarette.

Babe laughs softly before draining the rest of his bottle. “Sure, sure.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Gene turns on his heel and heads back into the house, leaving just the smoke from his cigarette behind. Babe turns to watch him for a few seconds before moving his gaze back to the front yard.

He’s thinking about Gene’s parents – he’s not even sure what their names are – and wonders who Gene looks like the most. Where he got that quiet way of talking from, the way his lips purse when he’s concentrating on something. Babe wants to see where it all started. 

Gene’s back on the porch a minute later with two beers in his hand and Babe laughs. 

“Drink up. We gotta leave in a few minutes,” Gene instructs as he gives Babe one of the bottles. 

Babe lifts it to his mouth before pausing, then says, “First one who finishes it wins?” 

Gene’s eyes twinkle and then they’re both chugging down the beer, the muscles in Babe’s throat working as he keeps his attention on Gene, who’s staring right back at him. The beer’s cold and a little bitter but it goes down nicely and just as Babe’s lifting the bottle to get the last swallow, Gene triumphantly drops his empty bottle on the railing, slightly out of breath and looking more than a little pleased with himself. 

“Fuck,” Babe splutters, some of it dripping down his chin because he’s laughing now. “I’m sure you cheated somehow.”

“And I’m sure you know that’s bullshit,” Gene retorts, smiling. “Ya got it all down your chin, Babe.” And because he can’t seem to help himself, Gene reaches out and wipes his thumb across Babe’s stubbled chin, and something shifts – it’s either Babe himself or maybe the entire world goes out of whack - but whatever the hell it is turns Gene’s gaze soft and they’re looking at each other like Gene touching him matters somehow. 

Gene’s still got his thumb on Babe’s chin and with one last swipe, drops his hand, smiling that patented Doc Roe smile and it's a crazy moment that leaves Babe with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach whose presence he can't explain.


	4. Chapter 4

“I think I need another beer,” Babe says as he stares at the small house that looks so innocent in the light but is the major cause for his raging anxiety.

Gene laughs. “I didn’t bring any.”

“Asshole.” As he’s wiping his hands on his trousers because he never realized how sweaty his hands could actually get, an arm slides around his shoulders, and Gene pulls a little closer, laughing softly in his ear and for some reason that warm breath sends shivers down Babe’s arms. 

“If you’re worried they won’t like you –” 

“Nah, it isn’t that. I mean,” Babe fumbles, his thoughts cluttered with Gene standing so close, “yeah, I want ‘em to _like_ me but, I dunno. It just feels kind of important. You’re important to me, so…” 

The arm that’s around his shoulders tightens it’s hold and Babe thinks about what he’s just said, realizing how much better that thought sounded in his head.

But it’s true, he thinks wildly as Gene stares at him with that steady look that makes him squirm, and as much as he might feel it's better to recant his words, he’s not going to because Gene is important, probably one of the most important in his life.

“Gene–”

The words die on his lips because Gene’s moving in closer and this lighthearted moment is turning into something Babe’s not sure how to handle. It’s completely insane because it looks like Gene’s gonna lean in and –

The front door opens with a bang and a man who can only be Gene’s father walks out onto the porch, his hands in his pockets and a look on his face Babe can’t decipher.

Gene slips his arm off Babe’s shoulder. “Hey Pop,” Gene says as they step onto the porch. “This is Edward Heffron.”

The man looks just like Gene, except with subtle differences that Babe can't stop staring at. 

“Hello, Edward,” Gene’s father says, holding his hand out. 

Babe takes the hand, surprised that the skin is tanned and not pale like Gene’s always is. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Roe.”

His stare is different than Gene’s, Babe decides as they size each other up. It’s a little harder, unswerving, and his eyes are a light blue which contrasts impressively with his tanned skin, and Babe doesn’t like it. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Mr. Roe says, releasing Babe’s hand. “Eugene mentions you all the time.”

Babe sneaks a look over at Gene, who’s staring at his father with an angry look Babe hasn’t seen since Europe. The anxiety in Babe’s stomach comes back and he moves his gaze over to Mr. Roe. 

“I’m sure if you talked to my ma she’d say the same thing,” Babe says, laughing softly, trying to take away the tension that’s cropped up in the last few seconds.

“Even wrote home to us about ya,” Mr. Roe says, that hard stare boring into Babe. 

And now he’s uncomfortable because what the fuck is going on? He shifts in between the two men, his gaze going back and forth from Gene to his father, while Gene stares daggers at the latter. 

“What’re you men doin’ out there?” The voice comes from inside the house and all three of them shift. “Bring our guest inside the house, for goodness’ sake!”

Trying not to feel awkward as Gene places his hand on the small of his back and ushers him into the house, Babe would bet a few dollars that those hard, blue eyes are on the hand that’s resting against his back.

This is a precarious situation, one Babe doesn’t want to be in, at least until he sits Gene down and asks him what the fuck is going on. 

Please let Mrs. Roe be normal, he thinks as Gene leads him down a hallway that cuts through the center of the house.

And he’s not let down.

She’s tall and thin as a rail, but she’s got the same dark eyes as Gene and when she envelopes Babe into her arms, he’s heartened to smell what he’s always thought of as “mom” perfume. 

“So this is Edward Heffron,” she says, holding him at arm’s length and looking him over. “We’ve heard so much about you, love. It’s wonderful that you’re here.”

Babe can tell that Mrs. Roe actually means what she’s saying, and he smiles warmly at her, doesn’t want her to let go.

“Sit down, sit down,” Mrs. Roe says, pushing Babe towards the kitchen table before rushing back to the stove. “Ed, get Edward a beer.”

“Mind if I have one?” Gene asks, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

“Hi, Genie,” she says, smiling affectionately. “I suppose you can have one too.”

Babe taps his fingers on the table as Gene leans back against the counter, giving him a tight smile. Babe raises his eyebrows in a silent “are you ok?” and Gene nods but Babe doesn't believe it. The urge to reach out and touch him is there but so is Mr. Roe, who’s handing Babe a beer and giving him that fucking look again.

Punching the man in the face seems like a great idea.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“So, tell us what you do up there in Philadelphia.”

Babe’s got a fork halfway to his mouth when Mr. Roe asks the question and he slowly drops it, choosing to look over at his wife as he answers.

“I work at the docks. Unloading shipments, that sort of thing.”

“Did you do that before the war?” Mrs. Roe asks.

“Yeah. I was actually considered exempt but I wanted to go.”

“That’s very brave of you – ”

“I’m sure a lot of boys did that,” Mr. Roe interrupts, taking a drink from his beer and staring at Babe. “Ain’t the first time I heard that.”

Grinding his teeth, Babe holds back the retort that desperately wants to come out. Gene catches Babe’s eye with an apologetic look and an awkward silence fills the room while Babe wonders what the fuck he did to make Gene’s father treat him with such contempt. 

It’s fucking insane and this entire visit can end at any time. 

He’s partly pissed off that Gene didn’t warn him, and when dinner does finally end after more than half an hour of strained conversation, Gene nods towards the back door and they slip outside.

Leaning against the porch railing, Babe stares at Gene, trying to decide if he should start chastising him for keeping him out of the loop, or sympathize because really – having an asshole for a father can’t be fun. But when Gene finally meets his gaze he decides to keep his mouth shut because it’s obvious how uncomfortable Gene is.

“Your ma is great,” Babe says lamely, unable to keep his mouth shut after all.

Gene smiles softly and for the first time Babe knows where that smile came from. “Yeah, she is. Listen, Babe – ”

“Gene, stop,” Babe says, stepping closer. “Yeah, I got lots of questions for you, but let’s wait till we get home, ok? ‘Cause as soon as you start the person we’re talkin’ about is gonna walk out the door.”

Now Gene’s staring at him dubiously. “When the hell did you get so smart, huh?”

“Shuddup,” Babe retorts, knocking his shoulder against Gene’s and he takes a second to lean against him, soaking up Gene’s energy because this visit is draining.

“Can I at least say I’m sorry?” Gene says, leaning back.

Babe laughs, a real laugh, for the first time since stepping on the porch a few hours ago and slings an arm around Gene’s shoulder. “Go ahead. I’m gonna forgive you anyway.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It’s late when Mrs. Roe finally lets them leave, both her and her husband following them out onto the porch. 

“How long are you stayin’, Edward?” Gene’s ma asks as they stand at the edge of the porch. 

Mr. Roe stares at Babe, and Babe knows that no matter what answer he gives, the old man won’t like it, so he decides to start playing with him.

“Not sure yet. A few weeks at least,” Babe says, throwing Mrs. Roe a toothy grin. “Seems pretty nice down here, minus the humidity.”

“Louisiana ain’t for everyone,” Mr. Roe interjects.

“Well, it might be for Edward,” Mrs. Roe says, smiling brightly. “Now off with the two of you.” She pulls Babe in for a hug while simultaneously telling Gene that the both of them need to stop over on Thursday night because Gene’s grandmere would be visiting and she’d be sore if they didn’t at least pop in.

“She’ll be here around four, but you can wait till later to actually come over!” Mrs. Roe yells from the porch as Babe and Gene get into the truck, Mr. Roe’s silhouette in the door way. Gene waves goodbye before backing out onto the road.

The journey back to Gene’s house is mostly silent, just soft breaths of smoke being exhaled and the wind swishing past their open windows. 

Babe wants to talk but he wants to do it at home. 

As soon as Gene pulls into the driveway, they’re both out of the truck and inside. Gene goes straight to the kitchen and pulls out two beers, hands one to Babe then gestures for Babe to follow him out the back door. 

Babe follows silently as Gene makes his way across the backyard and towards the river, his steps purposeful – like he knows his place, knows what he's doing. He stops at the edge of the river, looking out at nothing but darkness and the murky, gentle waves of the water. 

It’s kind of beautiful.

Babe steps up next to Gene and looks over at the man who’s become such a constant in his life and he wants to do something, anything really, to take away the melancholy. He doesn’t care why Gene’s father doesn’t seem to be a big fan of him, all he cares about is the guy standing a few inches away.

When his hand moves towards Gene to slither around his shoulders and pull him in, Gene leans into him, resting his head on Babe’s shoulder and his arm around Babe’s waist. 

And he knows they’re not gonna talk about it because right now, it’s not important. Maybe tomorrow it’ll hold more weight but now it’s more about just being together.

Just like during the war. 

Babe runs his fingers through Gene’s close-cropped hair and this thing, this feeling, fills his chest and he’s not sure what it is because he’s never felt it before. It’s foreign, but at the same time feels all kinds of right and there’s this inexplicable urge to press his lips against Gene’s temple. 

But Gene moves then, turns his face towards Babe’s neck and now there’s pressure against his skin, warm and wet, and Babe shivers, his fingers pulling gently at that black hair. 

He wants to say something but he can’t. Speech is gone, and instead it’s butterflies in his stomach and the realization that he knows why Mr. Roe doesn’t like him.


	5. Chapter 5

The darkness is stifling tonight. 

He blames it on the breeze that meandered it’s way past them while they stood together in front of the river. The breeze doesn’t reach Babe’s bedroom, and he’s kind of lost without it. He’s trying not to think about the revelation he came to earlier because he honestly doesn’t know what to think about it or what to do and he wishes he could call Bill. 

Because if anyone would know what to say about this situation, Bill would. 

A creaking from the hallway catches Babe’s attention, and he listens as footsteps descend the stairs. After contemplating for half a second, he slides out of bed, ignoring the little voice that says he should stay where he is. 

He doesn’t find Gene downstairs, but he finds a cold beer waiting for him on the kitchen table and after grabbing it, heads out the front door that’s been left open.

It’s so dark down here. He’s used to Philly with it’s constant traffic and streetlights on every corner, but here it’s just blackness with slivers of moonlight.

Kind of romantic.

The thought of romance starts a flush that works it’s way up his chest and Mr. Roe comes to mind, with his staring and implying that Gene, well… Babe’s not sure if he can even think the words. Not because it’s wrong but because it’s bizarre.

If Bill were here, he’d say it so Babe wouldn’t have to.

He sips at his beer, eyes scanning the darkness for a pale skinned figure and thinking about why it’s not wrong, and instead just a little bit weird, and Babe has no clue what to do next. He’s not opposed to the idea – and frankly, this has him even more confused. More than anything, he should be having a meltdown that another man is attracted to him and that he’s even considering the idea. 

Unwanted butterflies consume his stomach and he takes another drink of beer, thinks about maybe just going home and leaving this strange world behind. 

But then a set of arms slide around his waist and a warm chest presses against his back. Soft breath caresses his neck and he’s reminded of his old girlfriend, and how she would do this same thing when she’d meet him at the docks at the end of his shift. She was soft and smelled like flowers, and Babe would get a thrill to feel her breasts flattening against his back. He always turned around then to kiss her, and pull her against his chest and get lost in her blonde hair, his hands roaming the soft, gentle curves.

Instead of soft curves and sweet smelling hair, it’s a hard chest and the smell of beer and cigarettes, and Babe shudders against Gene, whose arms tighten around his waist. 

“Can’t sleep?” Gene asks, resting his chin on Babe’s shoulder and talking as though they weren’t pressed so close together. 

Babe has to swallow around the lump that’s in his throat. “Nah. Too damn hot.” He laughs softly and pushes back against the other man. “Thought you were gonna turn the heat down for me.”

That low chuckle Babe knows so well reaches his ears, and Gene playfully presses him harder against the porch railing. “I tried, Babe. I really tried.”

The words are simple, but Babe knows Gene isn’t really talking about the weather. It’s an unspoken plea for Babe to understand that they’re on the same page, that Gene knows why his father was so curt and now Babe knows too and maybe somehow, it’s gonna be all right. 

Babe can’t say for certain what exactly he feels for Gene, if it’s more than friendship and a bond they shared because of a war that stole a few years of their life away, or if it’s turning into something impossibly deeper. 

The moon moves slowly across the sky, peeking through the endless canopy of trees and shining a spotlight on the two men.

If only Mr. Roe could see them now, Babe thinks, and smiles to himself as he brings a hand up to entwine his fingers with Gene’s.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

He’s been consumed by Louisiana for a few days now. Already he’s gotten used to the heat and used to Gene’s house and used to Gene being right there beside him. 

It makes Philly seem worlds away, and Bill’s words drift back to him as Babe spreads out on the couch, listening to the radio while Gene hums in the kitchen. It’s all so domestic, and easy, and _right_. There’ve been a handful of these moments since arriving in Louisiana and when they happen, Babe wants to bottle it up and hold on tightly because it can’t last forever.

“Another beer?” Gene yells from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, sure,” Babe replies absently, his thoughts moving from domestic bliss to the silent conversation they shared a few nights ago and how things have subtly changed since. 

“Move over,” Gene says, handing Babe a beer before slapping gently at his legs. 

Babe shifts so he’s only taking up two-thirds of the couch instead of the whole thing, and Gene wedges himself in the narrow space. 

“My nose is peelin’,” Babe says, staring cross eyed at his flaking nose. “Itches like hell.”

“Give it a day or so and it’ll go away.”

“How are you so pale?” Babe asks curiously. “Both you and your ma, you’re pale as shit.”

Gene stares down at his pale hands and shrugs. “Not sure. My ma’s got the French side of the family. Lived in New Orleans till my parents got married. She was more of an indoorsy type of girl, I guess.”

“You work outside as a kid?” Babe asks.

“Yeah. Just never really got tan. My hands sometimes.”

“Really?” Babe sits up and leans over to take one of Gene’s hands in his, fingers running across the smooth digits. “I can’t imagine you with anything but pale fingers covered in bl– ” The words stop on his tongue and their gazes lock. Jesus Christ did he really just say that?

“Sorry,” Babe murmurs, trying to remove his hand but Gene holds on tight.

“Why are you apologizin’?” he asks, squeezing Babe’s fingers softly. 

It’s tempting to look away from Gene as Babe answers, but he’s locked into that dark gaze. “I … I dunno. We don’t seem to talk about the war. Try not to bring it up, y’know?”

Gene’s silent, his fingers rubbing gently against the palm of Babe’s palm, tracing the lines. There’s something about watching those lines being drawn – it’s mesmerizing. And Babe smiles because he didn’t realize there were so many. 

“Sometimes I’m surprised there’s not blood, too,” Gene says after a second, his gaze meeting Babe’s and holding it, “Crazy, huh?”

“Nah, it ain’t. Sometimes I swear I feel my rifle on my shoulder.” They laugh quietly and Babe gently moves his hand out of Gene’s grasp. “Think it’ll ever stop?”

“Someday. Maybe. We’ll have to find out I guess.”

Strains from The Glenn Miller Band filter through the room from the radio and there’s this inexplicable urge to reach out and touch Gene. Babe’s not exactly sure what he wants, or maybe even needs, but it feels like the man sitting beside him is the one to give him whatever the hell it is he needs. 

It’s scary to think that Gene might be more than a friend and not some pretty girl who smells like flowers and isn’t all hard muscle and so … masculine. Babe lets his gaze wander across Gene’s features, the short black hair, his forehead and nose and lips, the curve of his neck and his collarbone peeking out from his shirt. 

“There you go, bein’ all quiet again,” Gene says, snapping Babe out of his assessment. He’s got that amused smile on his lips, the one he used to give in Bastogne whenever Babe started bitching about the snow, and Babe’s stomach does that somersaulting thing because he might actually lean in and kiss Gene just to see what it’s like.

“Gene? You home?”

The voice drifts in from the front porch, and reluctantly Babe sits back against the cushions and watches as Gene stands, a smile breaking out on his face when a young woman walks through the door. 

“Christine,” Gene says as they embrace while Babe tries and fails not to feel awkward and maybe even a little jealous. They seems close, and for a fleeting second Babe has a vision of the two of them kissing and a red flare of rage flashes across his features before Gene lets the girl go and turns to Babe.

“Babe, this a Christine Benoit. She lives further down the bayou. Chris, this is Edward Heffron.”

The girl, _Chris_ , smiles at Babe, her expression open and friendly and now Babe’s feeling guilty for the earlier flash of anger. 

“Nice to meet you,” Babe says, shaking her hand while simultaneously trying to shake the jealousy that’s still there. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Christine says, smiling brightly. 

Babe shoves his hands in his pockets and glances over at Gene, wanting to say it seems everyone in this town has heard about him.

“Gene told me you’re from Philadelphia?” she asks. 

“Yeah, South Philly.”

“I’ve never been,” Christine says, smiling over at Gene who smiles back and that flare of jealousy whips up again in Babe’s stomach and he shifts on his feet, taken aback at his reaction to this pretty girl who’s suddenly walked into his life. 

“You want a drink?” Gene asks. “Beer, water?”

Babe lights a smoke while Christine asks for a beer, and somehow they all end up sitting on the front porch, the sun peeking through the trees across the river. 

As they talk, Babe watches and wonders in between occasional comments. Is she just a friend? Is she married? Or maybe a war widow, and that’s why the two of them seem so close? They don’t touch – though Gene’s brushed up against Babe more than once since they’ve come outside and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by himself or the girl.

It’s when Gene heads into the house for a refill that Babe finally works up the courage to ask the questions he’s wanted to ask since she came. 

“So, how do you know Gene?” 

The question interrupts the quietness around them, and Christine smiles softly. “I’ve known him since we were children. He was friends with my husband.”

He starts fiddling with his beer bottle. “Was he in the Army?”

“Marines.”

Was it Guadalcanal where he got it? Philippines? He’d followed news of the Pacific while fighting on the other side of the world – it could be any of them, and he’s not going to ask. 

“I like to come see Gene because he knew Rene,” Christine continues, her eyes drifting out towards the trees. “He’s a good listener.” She throws Babe a quick smile. “Gene’s mother was telling me yesterday about you. How happier he seems with you here. Said you two moved in sync, and you know, she was right.”

There’s a deeper meaning to her words and Babe’s not sure how to answer her. It’s like everyone in this town knows something that Babe wasn’t privy to a few days ago, and now that he knows, what the hell is he supposed to do? This girl is staring at him like it’s the most normal fucking thing for one man to have feelings for another, though a part of him wonders if it’s because it’s Eugene, and that the world hasn’t gone in a crazy direction Babe doesn’t understand. 

“He’s a good man, Babe Heffron,” she says, the words spoken sincerely. 

The volume of the radio increases from the front room, and they listen to Gene’s smooth voice singing along to Frank Sinatra and Babe nods. “I know.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Later, after she’s gone and they’re sitting together on the porch steps, arms touching because that’s how it’s always been, Babe stares over at Gene, thinking about what Christine said, and realizes how right most of it is. 

They _do_ move in sync, and while Babe’s not sure if Gene was unhappy before he came, he can see how happy Gene is now that Babe’s here. 

It’s a nice thought, really, to know you’re needed, and when Gene smiles, so does Babe. On impulse, Babe leans in and kisses Gene’s cheek, his lips sliding across rough stubble and while it’s strange, it’s not a bad strange. 

And it’s made all the more better when Gene presses his forehead to Babe’s and laughs softly.


	6. Chapter 6

He’s drifting off to sleep when he hears the noise – it’s a bit like a moan that’s trying to turn into a word but having difficulty actually doing so. Keeping still, he listens harder until it happens again and Babe knows it’s Eugene.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

Throwing the sheet back, Babe slides out of bed, not even stopping to think about what he’s doing – he just knows that Gene might need him.

When he opens the door to Gene’s bedroom, he finds the man curled on his side, legs twitching every few seconds and that godforsaken moan leaving his mouth. It hurts to see him like this – even eye-opening because for whatever reason, Babe always thought of Gene as strong. Bastogne doesn’t count because they all fucking lost it at some point or another. But now he’s vulnerable and Babe thinks about the year they were separated and how Gene must’ve woken up from countless nightmares alone and in the dark. 

It ain’t gonna happen this time.

Babe carefully kneels on the bed, reaches out to grasp at Gene’s shoulder. “Eugene,” he says softly, “you’re dreamin’, wake up.”

It takes a few seconds for Gene to wake but when he does, he’s gasping and staring at Babe as if he didn’t know him. Then recognition dawns and Gene murmurs something in French – it almost sounds like a prayer – and he rolls over, breathing heavily. 

Babe adjusts so that he’s under the covers and before Gene can even ask what the hell he’s doing, he’s lying beside him, faces just a few inches apart. 

Not knowing what to say, because comforting is something Gene does best, he stays quiet, listens to Gene’s breathing return to normal as they stare at each other like there’s nothing else in the world. 

“You ok?” he asks after a few moments, his leg shifting so their knees touch and he’s got no words for the sudden jolt in his stomach.

Gene’s gaze drops to Babe’s lips and for a second he hopes Gene’ll will move closer and kiss him because he’s been wondering for a few days what it would feel like and Babe doubts he’ll ever have the nerve to actually do it. 

“Is it always the same dream?” Gene asks. “For you, I mean?”

Babe shifts under the covers, and now their feet are lightly touching. “Sometimes. Mostly Bastogne.”

Gene’s eyes are just visible in the moonlight that’s streaming through the window and Babe watches as they darken and for a second, Babe’s sure he’s lost Gene to more nightmares.

“It’s over now,” Babe whispers, not knowing what else to say. “And we’re here, y’know? Making the most of it.”

“Yeah,” Gene replies after a moment, coming back from wherever he was, “yeah, we are.”

It’s one of those moments Babe can’t put words to and for once, he doesn’t want to – it’s like it’d be tainting it, and he just wants to live in it without wondering what it all means. So instead of thinking, Babe reaches across and takes Gene’s hand in his, entwining their fingers and trying not to think of how easy it is to touch this man. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The next evening comes sooner than Babe wants it to. While looking forward to seeing Gene’s mom and meeting his grandma, he’s anxious about Mr. Roe. It feels like so much has changed since Sunday, and now that Babe knows how the old man feels about the situation, he’s not sure what might happen.

And not to mention he’s still not sure what to do about the entire thing, especially since he woke up in Gene’s bed this morning and spent a few minutes staring at him until it felt intrusive so Babe slipped away to smoke a cigarette.

He wants to call Bill, but at the same time he doesn’t want Bill to know.

It’s a fucking conundrum.

They went fishing this afternoon, and Babe’s nose is red again. After showering he heads to the front porch and gingerly rubs his nose, wondering if it’ll be red and peeling the entire time he’s in Louisiana.

“Stop playin’ with it,” Gene says, leaning up against the railing beside Babe, and slapping his hand away. “You’ll just make it worse.”

“You try not scratchin’ it,” Babe replies, scrunching his nose up to relieve the itchiness. “No more fishing. At least for a few days.”

Gene laughs, eyes watching as Babe’s fingers start to twitch where they rest against the whitewashed railing. Babe’s about two seconds away from rubbing his nose because the fucking itch is maddening but then Gene grabs his hand, his fingers holding on tight.

“There,” he says, smiling softly, “now you can’t scratch.”

“I’ve got another, y’know,” Babe says, his tone challenging.

Their gazes lock and they’re waiting for the other one to make the first move. Predictably, Babe moves first. Attempting to get his hand back seems like a good idea until Gene’s fingers clamp down with a vice-like grip and now he’s reaching out and grasping onto Babe’s other hand.

“You ain’t gonna win this, Gene,” Babe says, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

Gene smirks, then he pounces, and Babe finds himself trapped. His hands have somehow ended up behind his back, and Gene’s got him pressed up against the post. They’re laughing and struggling and Babe’s reminded of how his brothers used to tease him when he was younger – they always knew his most ticklish spots – and it feels good to be silly. 

But then they both still and Babe stares at Gene, laughter still on his lips and that’s when the moment changes, becomes something more than just teasing and Christ, he can’t put into words how much he suddenly wants to lean in and kiss the man, finish what was started two years ago. 

“Babe,” Gene murmurs, breaking the moment but at the same time making it better because he leans in until their foreheads are pressed together, “I… we have to go.” He maneuvers their hands so that they’re no longer behind Babe’s back and instead hanging at their sides, fingers linked. “Let’s start this when we have time to finish it, huh?” he suggests quietly. 

The implication behind his words brings a flush to Babe’s cheeks and he nods, not knowing what else to say because this entire moment is fucking crazy.

But he’d be lying if he said the next few hours couldn’t go fast eough.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun dips behind the small white house, and they stand silently beside the truck, half hidden in the shadows. Babe can’t stop thinking about what Gene said earlier, and that makes him think about seeing Mr. Roe again – as soon as the old man sees him, he’s gonna know.

“As much as I want to meet your grandmother,” Babe says, turning to look over at Gene, “this is a bad idea, you know that right? Your dad’s gonna punch me in the face or something.”

The strangest expression flits across Gene’s features and before Babe even has a chance to decipher it, he’s being pushed backwards and doesn’t stop until he’s pressed against the wall of the house and Gene’s pressed against him. 

“What –”

But then Gene’s kissing him and Babe’s too stunned to do anything other than open his mouth and kiss back because fuck – it’s what he wants, maybe even needs. Gene tastes incredible, and Babe can’t get enough. His arms slide around Gene’s waist and he pulls him closer, his palms flat against a lean back and he wants more, wants to feel smooth skin beneath his hands. He’s forgotten where they are as they kiss in the shadows and his fingers slide to the waistband of Gene’s trousers, intending to pull his shirt free but Gene’s stopped kissing him, his fingers digging into Babe’s hipbones. 

“What the hell, Gene?” Babe asks, his words ending on a whine he’s never heard himself make before. “Jesus Christ.”

Gene’s got his forehead pressed against Babe’s and he chuckles, his voice an octave or two lower. “If my old man’s gonna punch you, I figured it should be for somethin’.”

It takes a second for Babe to work out if Gene’s joking or not, but when those lips part and a laugh rolls out, Babe rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking nuts, y’know that, right?” 

“Gene? Edward? Where are you?”

Mrs. Roe’s voice carries to the side of the house and Gene steps back. “I might be a little nuts,” he says quietly, “but you can’t tell me you don’t like it.” 

There are no words, Babe decides as Gene gives him that look before pulling at his hand. “C’mon.”

“You’re a bastard,” Babe breathes as they round the corner of the house to find Mrs. Roe standing on the porch, hands on her hips and her eyes falling on their joined hands. 

Despite just necking with her son a few feet from her front door, holding Gene’s hand where his mom can see it doesn’t sit comfortably with Babe and he pulls his hand out of Gene’s grasp. 

“What in the world were you two doin’?” Mrs. Roe asks as she envelopes Gene in a hug. “We heard your truck pull up almost five minutes ago!”

“We were checking out the garden,” Gene says smoothly while Babe gets an embrace. “Babe didn’t get to see it last time.”

“It’s a beautiful garden, isn’t it, Edward?” Mrs. Roe asks, keeping an arm around Babe’s waist. “Aren’t my sunflowers just gorgeous?”

Having seen no sunflowers, and hoping she’s not quizzing him, Babe answers in the affirmative. “Yeah, they’re great. Very pretty.”

He can see Gene laughing silently out of the corner of his eye – he really is a bastard. 

“Well, come on in. Grandmere’s been waiting for you two to get here.”

Babe follows Mrs. Roe in the house, Gene just behind him, and thankfully, Mr. Roe is nowhere in sight. It’s a good thing because Babe knows his face is still flushed and while the wife may not notice it, the man apparently has eagle eyes. 

“Genie, look at you,” a voice calls from the kitchen and an old, hunched over woman walks through the doorway, her hair in gray curls and dressed in what Babe can guess is her Sunday best. He watches as Gene embraces his grandmere tenderly, kissing her cheek as they murmur in French to one another, and when they both turn to look at Babe, he can only guess what they’ve been saying. 

“Babe, this is my grandmere,” Gene says, holding her hand out for Babe to take. “Grandmere, this is Babe Heffron.”

Babe takes the soft, wrinkled hand and watches as the tiny old woman seems to size him up. 

“Look at you,” she murmurs, reaching a trembling hand out and plucking at his hair, “I knew you were a red head. A lot to handle, I’ve heard.”

Is she making fun of him? He’s not sure, and he’s about to flick his gaze back to Gene with a “help me” look, but she continues speaking. 

“Always liked red heads. Got spit and fire. Isn’t that right, Genie?” she asks over her shoulder. 

This time Babe does look at Gene and it’s in time to see his eyes soften as their gazes meet across the room. “Yeah, Grandmere. But I can handle him.”

“I’m sure you can,” she answers quietly, looking Babe in the eye and while it feels like a good thing, Babe also gets the feeling she’s giving him permission, that maybe she approves of them doing whatever the hell it is they’re doing. “Now, Edward, escort an old lady to the kitchen.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

This visit is definitely more enjoyable than the first. It seems Grandmere’s presence keeps Mr. Roe’s comments to a minimum and for that Babe will be forever grateful. 

He tries really hard not to think about what happened around the side of the house, but it crops up at inopportune moments – like when Mrs. Roe is asking him about his work at the docks and he suddenly feels a flush start to make it’s way up his chest because a second before he’d been staring at Gene’s collarbone and thinking how much he’d like to kiss it. 

Jesus Christ. The man’s gonna be the death of him. 

After dinner, Babe follows Gene out onto the back porch and once he’s sure they’re alone, he nudges his shoulder. 

“I get the feeling you find this evening a little funny,” he says quietly. 

“A little,” Gene confesses, staring out at the shadowy yard. “I like to watch you.”

“What? Make an ass out of myself?”

“Maybe.” Gene leans in so their shoulders touch and his next words are whispered against Babe’s ear. “Maybe I find it kind of cute.”

Babe snorts. Cute? Him? Sure, sure. “Babe and cute don’t really go together,” he argues, and he’s about to say more but Gene’s pressing his lips against the shell of Babe’s ear and his stomach starts tangling itself in knots. He’s about to turn his head, Gene’s father be damned, but the back door opens and Gene pulls away as his grandmere walks out. 

“Genie, get this old woman a cold drink,” she says, taking a seat in a rocking chair next to the door. “And Edward, come sit with me.”

Knowing that it’s best not to argue with old ladies, Babe sits in the chair next to her and smiles as Gene heads back inside the house. He wants to be polite, start a conversation with her but he’s got no idea what to say. 

Grandmere beats him to it though. 

“I see the way you two look at each other,” she says, her tone stern and her eyes boring into Babe’s just like Gene’s father does. “Emilie told me – it’s more than just simple friendship between those two – and I just want you to know something, Edward.”

Babe gulps, more afraid of anything this tiny woman might say to him than any German he ever came in contact with. 

“That boy in there? He’s a good boy, and while it might seem he don’t need taken care of, he does.” Her wrinkled hand comes out to rest on Babe’s knee and she gives it a squeeze. “It’s gonna be hard, you two doing what you’re gonna do, but you’ll get through it. Together. Understand?”

A part of Babe can’t really believe he’s having this conversation with Gene’s grandmere, but another part is grateful that it’s not Mr. Roe. “Yes, ma’am,” he says quietly. He meant to leave it just at that, but his mouth opens and words seem to spill out without really thinking about it. “I’m gonna take care of him. I promise.”

“Good.” She pats his hand affectionately for a few seconds before speaking again. “Now give me one of your cigarettes before Emilie comes out here and yells at me for smoking.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It’s dark when they get home, and Babe’s a little buzzed from all the beer he’s drank since he woke up this morning. This is what he shifts the blame to when he decides to reach out and hold Gene’s hand as they walk towards the house. Gene’s fingers grasp tightly around Babe’s, and they make it to the front room before anything’s said. 

Or done. 

Because actions speak louder than words, Babe thinks, pushing Gene against the closed door.

Gene’s hands roam across his back as they grind against one another, gasps and the sound of wet, desperate kisses filling the room. Babe feels like he’s being devoured, can’t think beyond the fact that Gene’s pushing him towards the sofa and he’s letting himself be pushed, be kissed and touched and – “Fuck, I – I don’t know what I’m doin’ here, Doc,” he moans as Gene starts kissing his neck.

“Me either,” Gene whispers, the words soaking into Babe’s skin and now Babe can feel how Gene’s hands tremble against his back yet he still keeps going. Keeps pushing until Babe’s on his back on the sofa and Gene’s between his legs, chest to chest, and it’s the realization that he’s never wanted someone as much as he wants this man. 

“Christ, Gene,” he whimpers as they rut against each other slowly, almost experimentally, trying to find an angle that works. And when they do – Babe can’t take all the pleasure that’s running through his body. Gene’s mouthing at his neck until Babe pushes him up because he’s been staring at Gene’s collarbone for a few days now and God, he just wants to taste it. 

Leaning forward, he bites down softly, tasting sweat and smoke and something that’s just purely _Eugene_. Hips move together faster, cock against cock and Babe wants to touch Gene, feel that hardness in his hand but his toes are curling in his shoes as he sucks at that smooth skin, bringing the blood to the surface and Gene’s hand is palming the back of his head and – 

Gene moans his name, deep and throaty, and Babe’s coming harder than he ever has before, the world turning upside down and inside out and he may never find the surface again. 

But he doesn’t care right now. Can’t find a reason to care about anything other than the man breathing heavily on top of him, whose hips are still moving slowly and lips are still kissing; the man Babe’s got his arms around and whose hair he kisses softly as they lay together on the sofa – so close it’s almost impossible to tell where one stops and the other begins.


	7. Chapter 7

“Gene, you home?”

The words drift in through the front door and both men still – dread courses through Babe, effectively reversing the blood flow which had been happily making it’s way towards the center of his body. Gene groans softly against Babe’s back, his hips no longer making slow circles and pressing into his ass in a way that should be completely illegal. 

“Gene? Where you at?”

“Answer him,” Babe whispers, pushing back against Gene. “Answer him before he comes in here.”

“Goddammit.” The word is breathed against Babe’s neck and Gene takes a second to press his hips against Babe before pushing away. “In the kitchen, Pop. C’mon in.”

Needing a second to compose himself, Babe leans against the icebox and takes a handful of deep breaths, trying not to think about what they’d been doing for the past few minutes. 

It had started innocently enough – Babe reaching down for a beer, having no idea that Gene was behind him until a pair of hands latched onto his hips and a hard cock pressed against his ass – and it progressed quickly from there. 

Lips and teeth and words, hands and fingers and smooth skin, and Babe panting against the icebox as Gene ruts against him. 

It’s a crazy moment, and one that should’ve ended with jerking hips and shuddering gasps. 

“Where’s your friend?” Babe hears Mr. Roe speak from the other room and he swallows back a groan, willing his erection to go away. 

“Babe’s in the kitchen getting a beer. Want one?” Gene asks, his voice quiet.

Babe doesn’t wait for Mr. Roe to answer and instead grabs the beer he’d gone for five minutes previously and walks out into the main room, taking a swig. 

“Hey, Mr. Roe,” he says, tilting his beer in the man’s direction and stopping next to Gene.

The older man looks at him long and hard, and Babe is one hundred percent sure the man knows what they were up to in the kitchen and Babe waits for a set of gnarled hands to reach out and strangle him. But Mr. Roe pulls in a deep breath and nods towards the front door.

“C’mon. Let’s head to town.”

He doesn’t wait for them to follow, just steps out onto the porch while Babe and Gene stare at each other in disbelief. 

“Um…” Babe trails off, not sure what to say. He takes a long swallow of his beer, managing to finish a little more than half before handing it off to Gene. 

“Ain’t gonna wait all evenin’,” Mr. Roe says loudly from the front yard. 

Gene finishes the beer then grabs Babe’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hard kiss. 

“Why do I feel like that’s the last kiss I’m ever gonna get?” Babe murmurs as they head towards the door. “Kiss of death, yeah?”

“Shut up, Babe,” Gene says, throwing him a grin. “He’ll have to get through me first if he decides to kill you.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

The ride to town is silent and awkward. Gene sits in the middle in his father’s truck, all three of them chain smoking. Babe really can’t imagine what Mr. Roe is planning, and figures he should’ve at least gotten another six pack of beer in him before the old man showed up. 

Gonna be one hell of a night.

Mr. Roe stops the truck at a bar Gene had taken Babe to a few nights earlier. They walk silently inside and take a seat, Mr. Roe ordering drinks from the bartender, who’s eyeing them warily and who’s also apparently smart enough to not attempt any small talk.

“You two keep in touch with anyone else from your company?” Mr. Roe asks just as Glenn Miller pipes through the room from the jukebox. 

“A couple,” Gene says, lighting a cigarette. “Lotta letters. Babe comes from Philly – a few of the guys live there.”

“Guranere,” Babe offers, ticking off on his fingers, “Spina. Toye lives in the middle of the state, been to visit a few times. Tried to talk Luz into comin’ down but he keeps sayin’ he’s waiting for a reunion.”

“Winters lives close by, right?” Gene asks. 

“Who’s Winters?” Mr. Roe interjects.

Babe stares across Gene, surprised that Mr. Roe is actually talking to him and not making spiteful comments. “He was our CO. Got promoted while we were in Holland. Bill loves to talk about his ‘mennonite’ comment on D-Day.”

Gene laughs softly. “Became Easy Company legend, that one.”

And that’s how the next few hours go. Reminiscing about the war, with Gene’s old man asking questions every once in a while, even talking about his own days in the first war. 

It’s sorta nuts, and leaves Babe on edge because he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing’s ever this easy.

Eventually Gene gets up to go to the bathroom, leaving Babe alone with Mr. Roe. They’d all just been chuckling about another Guarnere story but the laughing’s stopped and Babe sits uncomfortably, staring straight ahead and watching Mr. Roe out of the corner of his eye. Not sure what he’s waiting for, but waiting for something nonetheless, Babe bides his time and takes a drink of his beer just as the older man clears his throat. 

“I’m only gonna say this one time, so listen carefully,” he says, looking over at Babe with a glint in his eyes that’s incredibly hard to decipher. “I know … I mean – look, whatever the hell is goin’ on between you and my son, I don’t need to know about it, nor do I really want to. But you do anythin’ to hurt my boy and … well…”

“You’ll strangle me?” Babe blurts out unhelpfully, then shuts his mouth because did he really just say that?

Mr. Roe stares at him with raised eyebrows before chuckling softly, a laugh so like his son’s. “If that’s how you’d like it to go, Edward, I can make it happen.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Roe drops them off many hours later, and Babe can’t quite believe how much he’s drank. The world’s spinning around him at a precarious angle but he’s got enough sense of humor still in him to take hold of Gene’s hand before turning to wave at the old man. 

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” Gene asks as they step inside the house, his hands gripping Babe’s hips and pushing him against the closed door.

“I think me and your dad came to a, uh… understandin’,” Babe says, chuckling around Gene’s lips that have somehow landed on his. “I hurt you and he strangles me. Sounds fair, I thought.”

“Christ, Babe,” Gene says, pressing his body against Babe’s, teeth nipping at soft skin, “sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.”

Babe snorts as nimble fingers start unbuttoning his shirt. “I think you’ve got a good idea right now.”

Gene doesn’t reply, chooses instead to press his lips against Babe’s and now it’s a stubbled chin rubbing against his and hands pulling at his clothes and it hits Babe again how surreal this is. Doesn’t matter how many times they’ve ended up like this since the other night – it feels like Babe’s holding on by his fingertips, and Gene might just slip through them, and it makes him hold on tighter because fuck, he’s not letting this man go. 

They’re rutting against one another, Babe whimpering softly and Gene murmuring under his breath, using words Babe doesn’t understand. He wants the release, wants to feel Gene shaking in his arms because it’s a beautiful thing but then Gene’s turning him roughly so Babe’s facing the wall, and Gene presses his warm body close.

“Fuck, Gene,” Babe whispers. 

“I want you so much,” Gene says, his breath warm on the back of Babe’s neck as he slides his cock against Babe’s ass and it’s so insanely hot and a little dirty, even more so when Gene slips a hand around to pull at Babe’s dick in time with his thrusts. 

It doesn’t take long for both of them to come, panting heavily and hips finally jerking and Babe can’t take the pleasure of it all. He’s whimpering, lets out what some might call a sob, and Gene turns him around. They slide to the floor together, legs tangled and clothes scattered around them. 

“Glad we got to finish that,” Babe whispers, pulling Gene closer so he’s all but in Babe’s lap. 

Gene’s smiling wryly, his breath still coming quickly, and for an inexplicable reason, Bill’s words from a few weeks before come back to Babe, and he might just understand how Bill thought he might not come back from Louisiana.

It’s a possibility. 

A pretty damn good one.


	8. Chapter 8

“I gotta go back to work on Monday.”

The words are spoken quietly, drift through the dark bedroom, and Babe curls closer against Gene’s side.

“You sure?”

Gene laughs. “Pretty sure. You’ll be ok by yourself?”

“Yeah. Do a little exploring or something.”

Gene shifts, pulling Babe closer and using all four of his limbs to hold tightly. “Kinda crazy how fast a month goes by,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Babe agrees. Thinking about leaving isn’t something he wants to consider; not right now any way. They should probably talk about what the hell they’re doin’, what this all means and if it’s just a fling or if it’s something deeper. 

It _feels_ deep, and his life in Philadelphia seems further away with every hour that passes. He can’t really imagine sleeping by himself, or hands not grabbing onto his hips and so many other things. 

Speaking of which…

“What’re you doin’, Babe?” Gene asks, pulling in a shaky breath as Babe presses soft kisses to that spot on Gene’s neck that makes the other man fidget. 

Babe’s hands drift down Gene’s torso, pulling clothes out of the way as he says, “What’s it look like, Doc?” with just a hint of sarcasm. 

Gene chuckles, his chest vibrating, and Babe slithers up his body. “Asshole,” Gene murmurs before pulling Babe closer.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning, Gene kisses Babe good-bye at the door. “Don’t get lost,” he murmurs, looking at Babe with careful eyes.

“I probably won’t make it much past the back yard,” Babe answers, placing his hands on Gene’s hips and pulling him close because there’s this warm feeling in his chest and it’s gonna suck to let him go.

“You got my work number?” Gene asks.

“For the two hundredth time, it’s on the side table,” Babe replies, rolling his eyes. “Christ, Gene, I promise I won’t burn the house down or get lost or, hell, won’t get eaten by a damn alligator.”

“Definitely don’t burn the house down,” he says. “And try to stay alive.”

“Would you be sad if I got eaten by an alligator?” Babe asks, digging his fingers harder against Gene’s hips.

“It’d be more of an inconvenience.” Gene smirks and ducks out of the way when Babe tries to slap him up-side the head. “I’ll see you tonight, Babe.”

“Asshole,” Babe says just loud enough for Gene to hear as he gets into the truck. It’s not said in anger though – more like exasperation and longing and maybe even a little lust because, well, it’s where his mind seems to go most of the time these days.

Watching Gene leave feels weird, odd, and Babe’s lost for a second as that beat up truck makes it way towards town. 

Lost and a little wary, but determined nonetheless to get through his first day alone in the bayou. 

There better not be any goddamn alligators.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Babe? You home?”

He’s in the kitchen, staring at a bowl of shrimp Gene’s ma brought over the other day and attempting to figure out how to turn it into something good for dinner. Abandoning the food, he walks into the front room and smiles.

“Hey Christine,” he says, moving forward to hug her but stops when he spies a little kid hanging onto her leg.

“Babe, this is my son Rene,” she says, gently easing the blond haired kid out from behind her leg, while Babe stares open mouthed. “Rene, this is mommy’s friend Babe. Can you say hi?”

The child looks up at Babe, wide-eyed and rumpled, and instead of speaking he puts his thumb in his mouth.

Christine rolls her eyes affectionately. “He’s a talker at home, but around strangers… Say hi, Rene.”

Rene shakes his head and walks to the sofa, pulling himself up on the seat and nestling into the corner, seeming content to suck his thumb and stare at the two adults in front of him.

Feeling somewhat foolish, Babe shifts on his feet and moves his gaze away from Rene back to Christine. “You never said you had a little boy.”

She eyes Babe carefully. “Why do you look so shocked?”

“I dunno. Just … wasn’t expecting to see a little you running around.”

She laughs. “He does look like me, doesn’t he? He’s got his father’s personality, though.”

Babe turns his gaze back to Rene just in time to watch the boy slide off the couch and make his way back to where they’re standing. He expects the child to go to his mother, but instead Rene stops in front of Babe and tilts his head back. 

“Hi. My name’s Rene, just like my daddy’s.” His voice is high and sweet and for a minute Babe panics because he’s not been around little children in years and how the fuck do you talk to a child?! He wishes Gene was here because something tells Babe he would know exactly what to say. 

“Hi, Rene,” Babe says softly, leaning down so he’s on the boy’s level. “I’m Babe.”

“How do you know my mommy?” Rene asks, staring at Babe with big, serious eyes. 

“You know Gene, don’t ya?” he asks. Rene nods, a smile brightening his cherub face. “I’m … friends with Gene.”

“And now you’re my friend?” Rene asks. 

He’s forgotten how open children can be, how innocent everything is, and it makes him nostalgic. And suddenly looking forward to getting to know Rene. 

“Yeah,” Babe says, smiling, “I’m your friend, too.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually Christine finds the bowl of shrimp in the kitchen, and after needling Babe about it, decides to take charge.

Babe and Rene stand together in the door to the kitchen, watching intently as Chris bustles around, throwing spices in whatever the hell it is she’s making. The thought that he could help her flits through his mind, but then Rene grabs hold, his chubby little fingers grasping onto Babe’s hand.

“Do you like to watch your ma cook?” Babe asks, looking down at Rene.

The boy shrugs and sticks his thumb in his mouth. Babe waits to see if he’ll respond, feeling foolish and wishing Christine would save him, but after a moment of silence, Rene lets go of his hand and holds both arms up.

He wants to be picked up. And Babe panics because he hasn’t held a child since his next door neighbor in Philly had a baby before the war.

But Rene is patiently waiting, and throwing a quick glance at Christine, looking for support or something along those lines and after receiving none, he relents and leans down.

Rene’s solid and heavy and very _there_ – Christine turns around just as the two of them find a comfortable stance, and the smile that breaks out on her face is priceless.

“I was gonna ask if you’d come help me, but it seems you’ve got your hands full.”

“We can help, can’t we, buddy?” Babe asks, looking down at Rene with a grin.

“We’ll help,” Rene says, grinning up at him and there’s this flip in Babe’s stomach he can’t explain and for some reason his mind goes to Eugene and the flip turns into a pang and –

“Alright, you two,” Christine says, breaking Babe’s train of thought, “let’s get our hands dirty.”

By the time five o’clock rolls around, she’s has got some sort of gumbo bubbling away on the stovetop and cornbread baking in the oven. Babe and Rene are covered in flour, having spent a better portion of the last hour flicking bits of it at each other.

“C’mon, little man,” Christine says once they’re all cleaned up, “let’s head home and let Babe get ready for dinner.”

“Aw, no, you guys stay,” Babe says, patting Rene’s head as he clings to Babe’s leg. “You made the dinner for Christ’s sake.”

Amidst a soft whining Rene makes as he clings with his chubby little fingers, Christine shakes her head. “Thanks Babe, but we’re gonna head home. Little man has to go to bed soon.”

“No I don’t mama,” Rene says, practically climbing up Babe’s leg. “Imma stay here.”

Embarrassingly, the kid’s pulling so hard at Babe’s pants that they’re starting to slide down his ass so he kneels and hefts Rene into his arms.

Christine smiles indulgently, reaches out to run her fingers through Rene’s hair. “Nope, we’re goin’ home, Rene. C’mere.”

Reluctantly, because Rene really has grown on him, Babe hands him over and watches as Rene’s eyes fill with tears and his lower lip starts to tremble.

“Hey, buddy,” Babe says, reaching out to hold on to his hand, “your ma’s gonna bring you back to visit real soon, right?”

“Of course,” Christine replies. “Now stop cryin’ little man, and let’s get out of Babe’s hair. We’ll see him later, ok?”

Babe watches from the front porch as they slowly make their way down the road, Rene turning around every few steps to wave.

“Cute kid,” he murmurs, smiling like an idiot and not quite sure why.

It’s not until he’s back inside and peeking at the cornbread in the oven, hoping he doesn’t burn it before Gene gets home but knowing he probably will – he realizes what the pang in his stomach was, and how it’s just another thing to think and worry about. 

Staying here, in Louisiana – it’s all or nothing. They’d be giving up a lot, but the things they’d have together – 

Something tells him it might be worth it. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s that smell?”

He’d heard Gene come in the door a few seconds ago, but doesn’t turn around until the man’s footsteps stop in the doorway.

“Some kind of gumbo. Or maybe stew,” Babe answers, turning back to the stove.

Gene stops just behind Babe and stares over his shoulder. “Um, don’t take this the wrong way but … did you make it?”

Babe snorts. “Would you still eat it if I said yes?”

“I’d have to really think about it,” Gene says, lightly resting his chin on Babe’s shoulder. “Christine was here, wasn’t she?”

Babe turns in Gene’s arms and rests his hands on a set of narrow hips, fingers digging in. “You really don’t think I made this?” he asks, trying to look pissed and failing.

A slow smile spreads across Gene’s lips. “Want me to lie?”

“Haha, ya bastard. And yes, Christine made it. But I helped, and so did her son,” he says conversationally. “He’s a cute kid.” 

Gene’s eyes light up at the mention of Rene. “Yeah, he’s great,” Gene agrees. “Looks just like Chris, doesn’t he?”

“He does. Took a shine to me, I think.”

“Yeah?” Gene leans in, smiling softly and being all charming while Babe tries to ignore the guilt that’s bubbling up in his chest.

“Yeah,” Babe whispers, his lips so close to Gene that they’re brushing together faintly with every word he speaks, and it’s distracting enough to forget about the guilt. 

_“Je vous ai manqué,”_ Gene whispers, his voice soft, and those smooth words seem to trail across every fiber of Babe’s skin.

“What’d you say?” he asks after pulling in a deep breath. 

It’s kind of endearing to watch the slow blush that blooms across Gene’s cheeks. “Said I missed you.”

It’s Babe’s turn to blush, and not quite sure what to say, he gives Gene a gentle push and blurts out, “Gettin’ sentimental on me, huh Doc?”

Gene laughs, a soft rumble that seems to vibrate through every fiber of Babe’s body, and it crosses his mind in a flash – how if he leaves there’ll be no more quiet moments like this, no more looks that say a thousand words and Jesus H. Christ he doesn’t want to think about life without Eugene. A tangible Gene, not one who’s there only in phone calls and letters. 

In a moment of impulsiveness, Babe wraps his arms around Gene’s slim waist and hugs him for all he’s worth, his face pressed against the side of his neck, already experiencing a feeling of loss because this can’t last forever, can it? And God, he wants it to, even though it makes him a selfish son of a bitch for holding Gene back from having a normal life. 

If Gene’s surprised at the hug or the emotion that’s emanating out of Babe, he says nothing. Just stays quiet and holds on tightly, because that’s what Gene does. 

“I missed you, too, Eugene,” Babe whispers against smooth skin, meaning every damn word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for delay in posting, but I hope you've enjoyed this installment! You've left me speechless once again with all the love. - Lu


	9. Chapter 9

Time’s running out.

He’s supposed to be back in Philly on Sunday; the train leaves early that morning, and now it’s Wednesday and they haven’t really talked about it. Who knows what Gene’s even thinking – maybe he doesn’t want Babe to stay?

And does he even want to stay? Go back to an empty apartment and a job that doesn’t give him much pleasure other than a weekly paycheck? None of it’s appealing in the least, especially when he thinks about how great the last three and a half weeks have been.

He’s not quite sure how he’ll even manage without Eugene. Yeah, he got through the last year and a half without him but things have changed.

Things have changed a fucking lot.

Without a second thought, Babe picks up the phone and dials Bill’s number. He’s been meaning to call since he got here and with Gene at work, now’s as good a time as any.

“Hello?”

Babe smiles against the receiver – he hadn’t realized he’d missed the sound of Bill’s voice. “Bill?” he says, “it’s Babe. Remember me?”

“Babe, ya son of a bitch! How the hell are ya?” Bill cackles in Babe’s ear so loudly he moves the phone away for a second, smiling like an idiot.

“I’m doin’ good, Bill, doin’ good,” Babe says, laughing. “You?”

“Ah, y’know, wreakin’ havoc in Philly. Same old shit. How’s Doc?”

Babe hesitates – is this where he brings it up? “Er… Gene’s good, good. Great. We’re both great. I mean, well, there’s this - er, thing… I mean –”

“Spit it out, Heffron,” Bill says gruffly, this tone in his voice that makes Babe think he already knows what he’s gonna say.

Normally words are so easy, they flow with no guidance or thought – and doesn’t it just figure that they don’t right now. “Um, well, I’m comin’ – well, supposed to come home in a few days and I dunno, I mean, I don’t think I’m ready.”

And then there’s silence, long enough that Babe squirms on the seat and begins babbling. 

“I ain’t sayin’ I’m not coming home,” he insists, light a cigarette, “I just – I don’t even know if Gene wants me to stay, and I got a job to get back to –”

“Forgettin’ the job for a minute,” Bill interrupts, “have ya even asked Doc?”

“Well,” Babe says, the word drawn out, “no. It just … hasn’t come up.”

“Jesus Christ, Babe, how fucking hard is it to ask?”

Frannie, Bill’s wife, starts yelling in the background, no doubt chastising her husband for his choice of words. 

“Like I haven’t heard ya say worse, Fran!” Bill yells, and Babe has to pull the phone away from his ear again.

He starts laughing. “Tell her _I’ve_ heard her say worse.”

“Ain’t tellin’ her that. She’ll slap me since you ain’t here. But listen, Babe,” Bill says, the laughter leaving his voice, “talk to Doc. I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on between the two of ya but don’t fucking come back to Philly without talkin’ it out. Don’t make yourself regret anything. Life’s too short.”

Babe stays silent, thinking through Bill’s words. 

Life’s too short. 

No regrets. 

Don’t come back…

“You still there?” Bill asks. 

“Yeah, still here. Just thinking.” Babe lights a cigarette and nods to himself. “Thanks Bill. I’ll talk to Gene.”

“Good. Now, tell me about Louisiana.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Babe’s burning the pork chops when Gene comes home that night. It’s great timing, and in between laughing and French words that have an affectionate ring to them, Gene manages to save most of the meat. 

“We can eat around the charred parts,” Gene says, slinging an arm around Babe’s waist as they stare down at the stove. “Let’s add some spices to ‘em.”

Having had enough of cooking, Babe cracks a beer open and watches as Gene adds whatever spices he wants to the chops, then sets a pan of green beans to boil. 

“How’d you learn to cook?” Babe asks, handing Gene a fresh beer. 

“Necessity. And a little help from my mother. Moved out when I was sixteen. It was either learn to cook or starve.” Gene stares at him with amusement before raising the bottle to his mouth and taking a swig. “You live by yourself in Philly, huh? What the hell did you eat?”

Babe blushes. “Um… my ma. And Bill. His wife Frannie’s a pretty swell cook, and she doesn’t mind feeding me a few times a week.”

“Can’t do that forever, y’know,” Gene says conversationally, turning the chops in the pan. 

Should he bring up how he doesn’t want to go back home and learn how to cook and live in that small apartment with all it’s street noises and banging on the ceiling from the couple upstairs? 

“I got an idea of how to fix it,” Babe says, trying to make the words come out nonchalantly and failing pretty badly because Gene turns away from the stove and eyes him carefully. 

“Yeah?” he says, no longer smiling and that steady, piercing look in his eyes. 

Babe’s not sure what to make of it because sometimes the man he thinks he knows better than anyone else still mystifies him. “Yeah,” he says, not breaking eye contact. “But let’s eat first.”

While eating dinner, making small talk that’s relatively meaningless, Babe can’t push the nervousness away, has to force the dried out meat down with lots and lots of beer. 

He’s gonna have an answer soon, gonna know where he belongs and what’s gonna happen and he can’t wait for this weight of not knowing to lift from his chest. 

After cleaning up the kitchen, Gene takes Babe’s hand and pulls him to the front porch, the knot in his stomach tightening as they take a seat on the porch swing. 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, watching the sun rays pour through the trees in colors Babe will never be able to describe in words. He doesn’t know what to say, how to start the conversation, but Gene – Eugene Roe, who means more to him than anyone else on the damn planet – beats him to it with words that are simple and straightforward, words that takes Babe’s breath away. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Gene states bluntly, staring at Babe earnestly, seriously, and Babe knows he’s speaking the truth. 

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and he pulls in a shaking breath, unable to think beyond the words that are on the tip of his tongue. 

“I don’t want to go either,” he whispers, thinking about the last three weeks; fishing and drinking and quiet nights on the front porch and not-so-quiet nights in beds. And more than anything, how Gene looks at him like he’s something precious, something important. “Christ, Gene,” he says, moans really, and suddenly he’s crawling into Gene’s lap, straddling him, and Gene’s arms slide around his back, pulling him closer.

They’re kissing deeply, hips moving together – Babe’s pressing in and Gene’s meeting with an upward thrust – and Babe wants Gene so much it physically hurts and the fact that Gene doesn’t want him to go…

Babe pulls back so fast he almost topples backward, but Gene’s holding on tight, his lips bruised and red and he’s a picture of lust and want and need and maybe even love. 

“Gene, you – I mean, are you sure? I can’t, I … you know what this is gonna do and Christ, your dad still kinda hates me and –” He’s babbling now, wanting to get his point across but having trouble doing so and goddammit just looking at Gene scrambles his mind, not to mention the position they’re in. “– and yeah, everyone else in this damn town seems all for it but –”

“Babe,” Gene whispers, sliding his hands up Babe’s cheeks, “I want you. I _know_ I want you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks because … it’s you, Babe. It’s always been you.”

His words leave a whirlwind of thoughts in Babe’s head and he can’t make sense of them even though there’s this warm, happy feeling that’s about to explode out of him – “Gene, I … what about kids? And marriage? And –”

Babe moves away from Eugene, not able to think when he’s got the man between his legs. “I don’t want to take those things away from you,” he says, “because you deserve it. I can’t – I don’t –”

The man Babe thinks he can’t live without stares up at him, his hands lying limply in his lap and his mouth open in a round “O” and what the _fuck_ does that mean? 

“Babe,” Gene says, standing so he’s a hair’s breadth away, “no matter what the circumstances, I’m _happy_ with you. Yeah, kids wouldn’t be a bad thing, but if I’m not with you, then … goddammit, Babe, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since Bastogne. And you comin’ here –”

But Babe’s stopped listening once the words ‘I love you’ left Gene’s mouth. He hears nothing, concentrates on nothing except those words and wonders if that feeling he gets in his chest when Gene looks at him or touches him or teases him – is this what love feels like?

He’s not sure how it happens but the next second Gene’s in Babe’s arms and they’re kissing like two drowning men, mouths open and tongues piercing and somehow they’re moving inside, clothes discarded along the way and Babe finds himself murmuring Gene’s name over and over again. The guilty feeling he’s had for a while now is still there but the heat in his chest overpowers it. 

“Gene,” Babe whimpers as he’s turned around and pushed onto all fours, Gene fumbling with his pants and pressing in where nothing’s been pressed in before and –

“Fuck,” Gene says, laying across Babe’s back as he pushes his cock in slowly, so fucking slowly, and Christ, it burns like nothing Babe’s felt before. The feeling takes over his entire body and he pulls in a shaking breath, trying to ignore it and concentrate instead on the warm chest that’s pressed against his back or the breath on his neck or fuck, anything but the burn. 

Babe reaches out and clenches his fingers against the sofa, holding on tightly, and that’s when Gene slips his hand around and starts pulling at his dick and whispering words in Babe’s ear, a mixture of English and French that sounds like nonsense but really isn’t and suddenly the burn doesn’t matter anymore.

Without thought, without reason or sanity or any of those other reasons, Babe’s growing hard and the feeling of Gene thrusting his cock in and out – “Gene, Christ, I’m gonna come,” he whimpers.

The world as he knows it ceases to exist as he fills Gene’s hand and Gene fills him and it’s one of those moments that are too good, a moment most people never experience and it’s fucking wonderful, fucking nuts and fucking perfect. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Afterwards, laying together on the living room floor and staring at each other as though for the first time, Babe realizes that yeah, they’re gonna miss out on a few things but in the end, it’s gonna be worth it. 

“Are you stayin’?” Gene asks, his hand softly gripping Babe’s hip. 

Babe smiles. “Yeah. I think I am.”

That soft smile Babe knows so well appears and his chest tightens again with that feeling he now knows his love. 

“Good,” Gene whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can't express how much each and every one of you who've commented or given kudos mean to me. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart... thank you.


End file.
